


Cool Sibling, Warm Brother

by satincolt



Series: Gamkar Ficlets [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Non-binary character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2376563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satincolt/pseuds/satincolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 Day OTP Challenge, Day 3: gaming/watching a movie</p><p>Gamzee and Karkat meet for the first time and have some nice pale snuggles while watching Thresh Prince of Bel-Air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cool Sibling, Warm Brother

Sitting on the seating plane in their respiteblock, Gamzee Makara is aware of two things: one, they’re bored; two, they miss their lusus like a physical hole in their bloodpusher.  Hell, they miss any other living thing like a cold ache in their chest, chiller than the rain sheeting down outside their hive. It ain’t often they get to feeling like this, but when they do, it’s the worst thing they’ve lived through in their eight sweeps.

Sighing, Gamzee retrieves their husktop, pestering their usually irate friend carcinoGeneticist. CG isn’t online, so Gamzee leaves a few messages for him, then sets the husktop down on the seating plane next to them, staring at the ceiling sadly.

CG: HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO SPAM ME WITH MESSAGES, YOU MORON?

Gamzee startles as CG’s message comes up on the screen, their husktop pinging.  They jump at the device, tapping out an excited reply.

TC: SoRrY bRoThEr, I gOt JuSt A lItTlE bOrEd, YoU fEeL mE?

CG: NO, I DON’T “FEEL YOU,” I DON’T WANT TO FEEL YOU.  YOU PROBABLY SMELL LIKE CIRCUS PEANUTS OR COTTON CANDY OR SOMETHING OTHERWISE SICKENING FROM YOUR NUBMUNCHING DARK CARNIVAL

TC: BrOtHeR’s GoTtA gEt LoNeLy SoMeTiMeS, aIn’T hE?  yOu GoT aNy TiMe In YoUr NiGhT fOr ThIs MoThErFuCkEr?

CG: I GUESS I CAN UNDERSTAND THAT.

TC: …

TC: YoU sAyIn I cAn Up AnD cOmE oVeR, bRoThEr?

CG: I DIDN’T SAY NO, BUT DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST FUCKING INVITE YOURSELF TO MY HIVE?

TC: …yEs?

TC: :o)

CG: GOD DAMNIT.  FINE.  I JUST GOT A NEW GAMEGRUB THAT COULD USE SOME BREAKING IN.

TC: SoUnDs MoThErFuCkIn ExCeLlEnT, bRoThEr :o)

 

Gamzee grins to themself and retrieves their jacket, not even bothering to lock the door to his hive as he strolls off down the well-worn path to the communal lawnring farm where CG lives.  Gamzee and CG have talked about visiting each other a lot, but never actually up and got around to it. There were always solar storms or schoolfeedings or lusus crises that managed to get in the ways of their plans. The path is familiar beneath Gamzee’s feet; they take the path a lot to go get food and occasionally clothes at the empirical dispensaries in the high-density occupational plot near CG’s lawnring farm.  This time feels different though, knowing they’re not just going to get more grubloaf and vitamins, knowing they’re going to see their friend instead.  And maybe, just motherfuckin’ maybe, they feel a little pale for CG. That might account for the spring in their step.

It takes Gamzee just about a half an hour to reach CG’s hive.  They know it’s CG’s because it has bright red buntings—what a flashy motherfucker—and they bounce up to the front door, rapping on it with an excited fist. A few beats pass before they hear movement inside the hive, then suddenly the door’s pulled open in front of them and where the motherfuck is CG?

“You’re a whole fucking lot taller than I thought you were.”

CG’s voice is a rough sort of warbly and Gamzee feels pale pity bloom like a flower in their bloodpusher at the sound.

“You’re a whole lot motherfuckin’ shorter than I got my imagine on, too, brother,” Gamzee grins at CG. He leans out the door a little bit, peering around the lawnring farm.

“Get your skinny ass in here before someone sees.”  His hot little hand is on the small of Gamzee’s back—he’s gotta be a lowblood, with a feel that warm.  Maybe CG might get his pale feelings on, too, if he’s that touchy, Gamzee hopes.

Gamzee whistles idly as they look around at CG’s hive.  It definitely wasn’t built for a troll their size; they stoop a bit to keep the tips of their horns from hitting the ceiling.  Then they realize CG’s just up and staring at them.

“Somethin’ wrong, lil’ brother?” they ask placidly.

“You’re the calmest indigo I’ve ever met,” CG says slowly.  “No—you’re the only indigo I’ve met.  But I know you guys aren’t supposed to be calm.  You’re supposed to be all murderclowns and bloodpaint.  Also, you’re fucking huge.  Stop being so fucking huge.”

Gamzee chuckles. “I guess I am a pretty chill motherfucker, ain’t I?”

CG looks off into another block of his hive and bites his lip a little bit.  “I have some movies and that new grubgame—do you want to play?”

“Surest thing, little motherfucker,” Gamzee grins, ducking to walk into the other block. CG follows them like a small, slightly nervous shadow.  Gamzee flops onto CG’s couch.  Their eyes are right at CG’s eye level.  Gamzee feels pity well up in their bloodpusher at just how tiny CG is.

“I’ll get the gamegrub ready, I guess,” CG says.

“Say, brother, what’s your name?” Gamzee asks as CG unwinds cords for two controllers.

“Karkat,” CG says, handing a controller to Gamzee.  “What’s yours?”

“Gamzee motherfuckin’ Makara,” Gamzee says proudly, leaning back on the couch.  “Karkat up and suits you, brother.”

“Do you call everyone brother?” Karkat asks, eyes on the screen as he chooses settings for the game.

“Not if they’re a sister,” Gamzee chuckles.  “Or if they decided not to be a brother or a sister.  Then they’re just a siblin’ like me.”

Karkat looks over at Gamzee, confusion written across his face for half a second before he wipes it blank.

“You … didn’t choose? I thought you could get culled for that…”

“They haven’t up and culled me yet,” Gamzee tries out the buttons on the controller meant for a lowblood’s hands.  “I found bein’ right between a brother an’ a sister suits me just fine.  Don’t bother me none.”

“Huh.”

Karkat looks back to the screen.  “I set it to easy. I don’t know how good you are at games.”

“I guess we’ll up and find out, won’t we?” Gamzee grins.

XXX

It turns out Gamzee is a lot worse at gamegrubs than they or Karkat initially thought. After a few catastrophic rounds in which Karkat slayed them, Gamzee suggested they watch movies instead. Karkat wholeheartedly agreed.

Karkat puts on the first season of _Thresh Prince of Bel-Air_ and settles down on the couch, a respectable distance away from his highblood friend.  He has some pale feelings for them, sure, ones he keeps as carefully concealed as he can. Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t subtly inch closer and closer, just a little test to see if Gamzee returns his pale feelings.

It takes Karkat three episodes to get to the point where he could feasibly reach out with his pinkie and ring fingers and touch the back of Gamzee’s hand.  It takes another episode for Karkat to work up the courage.

Then, right as troll Will Smith is confessing that his father never loved him, Karkat moves his two fingers to touch Gamzee’s hand.  They look down at Karkat, expression inscrutable, and lace their fingers with Karkat’s. Karkat’s stomach does a violent backflip and he can’t help but laugh a little bit.  Gamzee cracks a grin.

“Would I be wrong in guessin’ a motherfucker’s got a little bit of a pale feel?” Gamzee asks quietly.

“No,” Karkat whispers back. Gamzee squeezes his hand. Their palm is highblood-cool and it’s an alien sensation Karkat wants to feel more.  Gamzee moves to press their leg up against Karkat’s and eventually Karkat ends up with his head on Gamzee’s bicep.

“You know what I never fucking got?  Why troll Will Smith didn’t just leave. This would’ve all been completely fucking preventable if he’d just left before that shit went down,” Karkat says, gesturing angrily at the screen with his free hand, face flushed violent red with secondhand embarrassment.

“I feel that, brother,” Gamzee mumbles, pulling their hand out of Karkat’s grip. Karkat feels hurt for half a second before Gamzee’s hand reappears just above his hip and suddenly the highblood’s pulling him into their lap, positioning him not unlike a doll so that he’s leaned up against the arm of the couch and pressed against their chest. Karkat meeps when he realizes exactly what position he’s in.

“Y’alright there, my little motherfucker?” Gamzee asks carefully, taking Karkat’s hand back.

“Fine,” Karkat says tightly. Gamzee chuckles and leans down to press his forehead against Karkat’s.  Karkat relaxes into the touch and settles in Gamzee’s lap.  This is good.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is rushed and makes no sense and the ending is unsatisfying, but I'd been kicking myself in the butt for days just to finish it. Sorry :o(


End file.
